


How Not To Care For Teenagers

by soybea_n



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Aunt May Isn't Around Much, Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Spoilers, Everyone Comes Back, Gen, He Also Has No Idea How To Take Care Of Children, Hurt Loki (Marvel), I repeat, I'll add more tags later, Loki (Marvel) Has Issues, Loki (Marvel)-centric, Loki Needs a Hug, Loki Whump, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker Whump, Sick Peter Parker, This Fic Is Not Loki X Peter Parker, This Is Not Loki x Peter Parker, Thor Doesn't Know That Loki Is Alive
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-13
Updated: 2018-11-16
Packaged: 2019-05-31 06:29:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15113723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soybea_n/pseuds/soybea_n
Summary: Six months after the events of Thanos, Loki is just trying to live a quiet life as a commoner in Queens. His attempt at staying unnoticed goes to the crows, however, when he stumbles upon the most idiotic teenager vigilante in a bright red-and-blue suit.





	1. In Which Peter Stumbles Into Loki's Life (and Loki hates it)

Loki was  _not_ hiding.

He was just waiting.

He was in Queens, disguised as a commoner, magicking the things he needed to survive. But why on Earth, of all places? If he were to admit it, he was just here to keep an eye on his brother. But he didn't admit it. Strange had confronted him about the topic several times. Loki remembered the most recent encounter well. He had been walking through an alley when that second-rate sorcerer had done his usual creepy-silent-portal approach.

_"What are you doing here this time?" Stephen had asked, hostile as ever. He was wearing his usual tunic, but his face was healing from several cuts and scrapes. One of his arms was in a cast (which was odd, seeing as his magic should have been able to heal it) and he had a slight limp. It was worrying how the battle six months ago still managed to show traces in the most unlikely places. The Cloak was not as... floaty as usual; it had multiple holes in it and parts of it had been patched up with normal fabric._

_"Good to see you too," the older sorcerer answered wryly, smiling coldly. Loki was thriving, his magic just as abundant as ever, and used regularly, too. The two magicians looked out of place next to each other; Strange with his Harry-Potter-looking clothing choices next to Loki's Midgardian clothes._

_"I didn't come here for pleasantries. Who are you working for?"_

_"Who am I working for?" Loki repeated incredulously. He let out a startled laugh. Who was he_ working for?  _As if Loki would_ _be working for someone again?_ _"Oh, yes," he continued, sarcasm practically pouring from his words. "Because my last attempt at that went so well, seeing as my employer forced me to go on what was practically a suicide mission and eventually killed me."_

_Strange didn't have any words at that. After waiting for a response, Loki started to walk out._

_"Wait."_

_He turned around._

_"If you so much as get into a single street skirmish, I will personally storm down here and throw your ass into the darkest, most desolate planet out there, and I will keep you there."_

_"Just don't tell Thor I'm out here, and we'll be good."_

_They agreed on it._

So now Loki was on his own. That was four months ago. He was doing well on the streets, with an admittedly grubby apartment, but he walked around unrecognized, went to sleep full, and was satisfied with the knowledge that  ~~his brother wasn't dead~~  he would be able to do the same tomorrow.

* * *

So here he was, one dreary, humid summer night, groceries in hand, when he stumbled upon a brown-haired, bruised teenage boy in front of his door, passed out, wearing a bright red-and-blue costume, what appeared to be a mask clutched in his left hand. The colors were garish, in Loki's opinion, but-- oh, right. Child. Now probably wasn't the time to critique his outfit choices.

He opened the door telekinetically, placing his groceries inside, then lifted the kid. He was... very heavy, but Loki could handle it. Dropping him on the (clean) sofa, Loki sat on the grubby one-seater next to the open entrance, pushing it closed and wondering what to do with this.

Why did he even bring this boy in in? All Loki wanted to do was make some of that mac-and-cheese and go to sleep, preferably after spraying his hair with some of that coconut anti-frizz spray.

Turning on the light, it was clear why the kid was passed out. His face was covered in bright purple-red bruises and his idiotic costume was torn. Dried blood was caked over the rips. God, how long was he there like that?

The sorcerer walked into the single bedroom with his cramped twin bed (he didn't even fit on it), opening the closet and picking out the smallest shirt and pants he had; they were both still too big for a runt like that child. They were both comfortable material, at least. Laying them down next to the couch and fetching a glass of water, Loki wondered what to do next.

_How do you take care of children?_

_How did ~~Frigga~~ take care of me?_

Food? Kid was knocked out, so that wasn't an option. Water? Already there. Clean clothes? He would have the option to change once he woke up. What else did he need? Well, his wounds probably needed some attention, but Loki wan't really that good with... other people in general.  ~~Thor~~ was not an exception either.

Loki supposed he should wait. He picked out one of the library books he had rented a few days ago and opened it, his gaze snapping back to the stranger on the couch every few minutes. It was 2:30 AM, according to the old clock on the wall.

Two hours of reading later, the kid still hadn't woken up. Loki sighed, walking into the small kitchen and getting a rag, soaking it in water. He brought it back to where the brown-haired boy was unconscious and hesitantly poked at one of the arm wounds with it. The kid's finger twitched, but nothing else happened, so Loki took that as a sign that he should probably keep on cleaning the injury. God, it was disgusting, though.  ~~Frigga~~ was never squeamish around blood (seeing how Thor turned up almost every other hour with some new broken bone or injury) but Loki certainly was. He  _could_ start to heal it with magic, but it was always a good habit to clean cuts before using magic on them.

Maybe he should heal just the bruises.

Loki closed his eyes, reaching for the bruises with his magic, letting them start to knit themselves together, but--

The child's eyes snapped open and he pulled his hand back with a hiss of pain. Loki drew back, almost dropping the rag on the floor.

"You're... safe." Loki said awkwardly. What else was he supposed to say?  _I'm glad you aren't dead? Please get out so I won't be under any moral obligation to think and worry about you?_

"Where is this?" the kid asked hoarsely after a few seconds of heavy breathing.

"My house. What's your name?"

After a pause, the answer came. "I'm Peter."

"Well, Peter, you seem a bit hurt, so I'll let you," the God of Mischief paused, wanting to articulate on Peter's current injured state-- "um-- you know what, here's a cloth, I'll let you..." Loki gestured at the many cuts in Peter's costume.

Peter looked a little taken aback at that. Was that the wrong thing to say? Fuck. Peter picked up the offered cloth and began to experimentally scrub at the dried blood, wincing a little bit but then grimacing and cleaning up the wounds without so much as a sound. Loki watched from a few feet away.

_Are his wounds already closed?_

Loki blinked a few times, but it was true; the cuts were mostly closed, with only scars over them, and it seemed like the bruises also had faded slightly. Well, those might have been sped up by Loki's magic, but not  _that much._ Which meant this  _child--_ probably not even eighteen-- was like the Captain of America (or whatever he was called) with accelerated healing. Perhaps even enhanced prowess, too. That.... was dangerous. Very, very dangerous. If he was one of them, that meant that he was probably in contact with the Avengers. And they most certainly would not take kindly to Loki appearing on their doorstep with one of their own.

"Thanks, Mr..." Peter trailed off. He looked at Loki expectantly, waiting for a name.

"No problem," Loki answered curtly, not answering to the name question. His name was very recognizable, and honestly? Peter was probably already tipped off by the hair (which was, however, significantly longer and curlier) and green outfit. It wasn't Loki’s fault that green was just an aesthetically pleasing color. He did tend to gravitate towards green, but sometimes he wore black or some yellow because it reminded him of  ~~Frigga~~. Any color was alright as long as it was dark-- oh, right. Peter was looking up expectantly. 

"I guess I'll go get changed."

Loki nodded, letting Peter get up and helping him limp down to the restroom. Handing him the change of clothes, Loki walked down to the kitchen, opening the small cabinet he used to store this century's notebook.

Because Asgardians had such long lives, most of them kept notebooks for each century to log events. This was his tenth notebook and, while it was just starting out, it was already half full. The events of Thanos, Asgard, Jotunheim, and Sakaar had taken up quite a bit of space. His other notebooks had been tucked away in a little compartment in his old room in Asgard, but since Hela had ruined everything, they were long gone. He opened the present journal, quickly jotting down a few concise notes about the day's events.

Peter stumbled out of the bathroom just then; Loki snapped his book shut and placed it back inside, walking down to where the other boy was struggling down the hall. He hesitantly threw one arm around Peter's shoulders, avoiding as much contact as possible. After steering him towards the old twin bed, Peter lay down, evidently tired.

"I think you should stay the night. At the rate your wounds are healing, I'd say they'll be good by morning," Loki decided halfheartedly, torn between  ~~wanting company~~ letting Peter heal and being alone. He stepped out of the room.

"Um, thank you, sir," Peter called timidly from here he lay. He had thrown a blanket clumsily over himself.

"Don't--" Peter paused as Loki turned his gaze to the teenager-- "Please don't tell anyone I was here. Mr. Stark probably doesn't want me to be here."

"He didn't put a tracker in your costume? He seems very clingy, I would have expected that much of him."

"How did you know-- um, no-- he _did_ put a tracker in my suit. I just disabled it."

The God of Mischief nodded and turned off the light. He returned to the couch and picked up his book once more.

His eyes skimmed the pages distractedly, not really paying attention. Another hour passed.

* * *

He went to sleep on the couch.

When he woke up the next morning, Peter was gone, the bed was made, the suit was gone.

8:30 AM.

Later that day, he would come back and find that the dishes were washed as well.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all enjoyed this chapter!! I promise the next few will be longer. I’m planning on getting them out at least once every week, but there are no guarantees. Thanks for reading!


	2. In Which Loki Accidentally Gets Emotionally Attached To The Small Human

It had been a week since Peter had come and gone. Loki assumed he was alright, since the teenage vigilante was regularly spotted swinging through the concrete jungle of Queens. Life was peaceful-- well, more so than usual.

Loki's job at the library was from 8:30 in the morning until 6:30, with a 3-hour break from 11:00 to 2:00. Peter obviously went to school or camp or something, which was why Loki never saw him during break.

The Avengers were popping up on the news all the time; Loki couldn't open the news app on his phone without fourteen articles about the heroes taking full spotlight. This would be alright if the articles covered the actually important topics such as where they were travelling and the methods they were using to get rid of Thanos's leftover minions, but all they covered were the political problems that stemmed from the Captain not signing a paper and ridiculous articles about their personal lives.

The Children of Thanos were making reappearances every so often around the universe. The Avengers were given the responsibility to track down the ones on Earth and snuff them out, while the Guardians of the Galaxy were eradicating the ones in space. The most recent appearance was in Argentina, if Loki remembered correctly.

The closest Loki had ever been to a resurgence was when a minion started wreaking havoc in New Rochelle, 20 miles from Queens. Iron Man, Black Widow, and Strange were assigned to that mission.

Thor hadn't been up and about with the missions much, seeing as how he was still trying to track down the remaining Asgardians. The heroes of Wakanda weren't going anywhere either, as they were still recovering from the battle that occurred on their soil.

(Loki hated the minions. Thanos didn't have the Mind Stone anymore; they weren't being controlled. The Children were doing this of their free will.)

_They're just as monstrous as I am._

* * *

[7:15 PM.]

Loki was walking back from work. He had stayed overtime to help reorganize the Young Adult section, and stopped at Barnes and Noble to pick up a new sketchpad after he had filled up his old one.

(He also bought another notebook for phone numbers and contact information. His old phone always crashed when it entered the Contacts app.)

This was Loki's street. He turned the corner, expecting to walk into his grubby apartment without any interaction from his neighbors.

It didn't happen.

A familiar brown-haired, idiotic child was sitting on the steps in front of the door, reading something on his phone. He had a backpack with a few books in it.  _For fuck's sake, what is it now?_

"Peter, what do you want?" Loki sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose in exasperation.

"I'm sorry," Peter squeaked, scrambling to get up. "Um, I just wanted to say thank you for taking me in the other day? I know it was really early and you probably didn't want to see me at your door at like 2:30 in the morning so I got you this?" He held up two grocery bags. One of them was from the local Kroger's, but the other one had the logo  _Delmar's_ on the front.

Loki raised an eyebrow. Peter squirmed under his gaze, looking completely uncomfortable.

"Come in," Loki relented, stepping past the boy and opening the door.

Loki's house layout wasn't impressive in the slightest; a small living room with a sofa and a one-seater were to the right of the entrance, while a tiny kitchen opened up to the left. One bedroom was at the end of the hallway straight ahead, while to the left of it was a bathroom. All of the rooms except the kitchen were floored with a disgusting beige-green carpet. Peter took this in, closed the door, then placed his backpack neatly in the corner of the room, unfazed.

Loki opened the first bag, fully aware of the boy's hopeful expression. Inside it were two bottles of blue Gatorade, a loaf of banana bread, a box of strawberries, and a can of Pringles. (Probably the most random items in the universe.) In the other bag, the one with  _Delmar's_ on the front of it, there was a sandwich wrapped in aluminum foil.

"What am I to do with this?" he asked, looking up, eyebrows quirked, a tiny, amused smile threatening to lift at the corners of his mouth.

"I just went to the store and got a bunch of stuff I was hungry for," Peter answered sheepishly, grinning. Loki turned around, walking towards the small fridge when Peter spoke up again.

"I, uh, left my house key at home and my Aunt May is on a shift right now and Mr. Stark is busy today, so do you think I could stay here for a bit?" The teenager shuffled his feet nervously.

Loki debated his options. He could say no... but that would be rude. And it was probably a social obligation to say yes. Besides, if he _did_ say no, Loki would get some peace and quiet, but the child would probably go and talk about him with his middle school friends, and that would give the sorcerer unnecessary attention. One day of grudging company was worth a few years of lying low.

"Sure," Loki decided reluctantly, gesturing to the couch. Peter nodded and sat down, taking out his books while Loki put the items away. After a bit of debate, Loki put the contacts book in one of the few kitchen cabinets, seeing as it wasn't going to be used much. After thirty minutes of sitting in silence (a record of Peter's, still unbroken), Loki handed the kid one of the Gatorade bottles.

It took thirty-four seconds for the silence to get awkward and Peter started conversation. "Do you have a job?"

"I work at the library."

"Cool!" Peter said, eyes brightening. "May-- she's my aunt, I live with her, she's the best-- well, I don't see her much anymore 'cause she works so much, I'm mostly down at the Avengers Compound, training, you know, superhero and all that-- what was I about to say? Oh, right. Aunt May used to work at a library. Don't remember which one, but me, Ben, and May got to go there all the time and I got to check out a ton of chemistry books. Guess that's where-- oh, am I rambling?" Peter paused, noticing Loki's bewildered expression.

"No, it's alright," Loki answered distractedly. "What's it like in the Avengers Compound?"

"Ned asked me that. It's actually pretty tense a lot of the time. Steve and Bucky moved in but they don't talk to Mr. Stark, Scarlet Witch and Vision are out somewhere in the world, Clint is going to go back to his family soon, Mr. Falcon--"

"Mr. Falcon?" the sorcerer interrupted, raising an eyebrow.

"Well, he didn't argue when I called him that. Anyway, Black Widow, Dr. Banner, and Thor are around most of the time too."

"Sounds boring," Loki remarked, sarcasm dripping off his voice, but the kid didn't seem to pick up on it.

"No, it isn't really," Peter said eagerly. "Steve lets me train with him every few weeks and Bucky lets me put magnets on his arm. Thor and Bruce are always working on something together in the lab. I got to help out once, but I don't really think we got that far that day."

"What did you do?"

"Well, we tried to find a way to contact Thor's people? They were trying to find someone named Valkyrie or something."

"Sounds like an odd name. I wonder who that is," Loki observed nonchalantly.

"Right?! I asked them about her, but neither of them told me anything."

They sat like that for a while, Peter flipping through the last pages of his book. There was a note attached to the front that said  _Decathlon Practice Doesn't End With The School Year, Nerd. -MJ_

Loki was drinking his blue Gatorade (it was absolutely delicious) when Peter frantically started shoving his books into his backpack. "Oh my gosh, I should have been on patrol ten minutes ago!"

The sorcerer looked at the clock.

[8:10 PM.]

"Thanks for having me over! Um, what should I call you? You know, in case I ever see you out there?" Peter asked eagerly, getting up.

"You probably won't," Loki assured him.

"I might!"

With a sigh, Loki smiled wearily. "Lukas." It was the name he told all of the Midgardians.

Peter smiled triumphantly and left, saying bye.

(The smile dropped off of Loki's face the moment the door closed.)

(He was literally the God of Lies. So why did he feel so bad about lying to this kid?)

_(_ _Seems ~~Thor~~ and his aligned moral compass are rubbing off on you.)_

* * *

Loki really hoped that would be the last time Peter came over. He really did hope.

But, lo and behold, three days later, a brown-haired, bright-eyed, idiotic sixteen-year-old appeared on a very tired magician's doorstep, wielding yet another grocery bag.

"I'm seriously planning on putting another bed in my living room in case you show up here again," Loki greeted him with exasperation, opening the door.

With a delighted smile  _( ~~Odin's~~ beard, this kid is going to kill me)_ Peter bounced inside, the same backpack hoisted over one shoulder. He seemed to have made it his mission to provide Loki with "nutritious" foods each visit (this time, it was graham crackers, Greek yogurt, pancake mix, and a literal avocado) and Loki was about to go insane looking for ways to store them in his tiny fridge.

"So what's the scoop today?" Loki asked wryly, seeing how Peter seemed as he was going to burst from excitement. He was practically vibrating with energy, gods.

"Dr. Banner asked mefor help today!" Peter practically screamed. "He was like, 'hey, kid, sorry to bother you, but Tony's busy right now and you're pretty good with tech, so could you come down and help me with some equipment?' and it was so cool! I mean, it was just a computer that was malfunctioning and I fixed it pretty fast, but still! I read his papers a few years ago on radiation and they were  _so interesting_ and he was like 'I could help you out with your powers--"

"What  _are_ your powers?" Loki asked, making it sound like an innocent question. Really, he was just assessing the threat.

"Oh." Peter grinned ruefully. "I got bit by a radioactive spider one time when I was on a field trip to OsCorp. So I can do spider stuff."

_What the hell does spider stuff mean? He has super strength and a healing factor, but what else do spiders do--_

"You shoot webs out of your ass," Loki said disbelievingly, an  _actual smile_ crawling across his face. Peter turned beet-red.

"What--  _no!_ I--no! I can stick to walls and I-- oh my god,  _what the hell?"_

The sorcerer tipped his head back and laughed loudly, an open sound, one he himself hadn't heard in so long. After a while, Peter joined in.

It was fun.

* * *

Peter coming over became a habit that extended into autumn, once that Loki  ~~enjoyed~~ disliked. Peter walked down to Loki's house every Monday, Thursday, and Saturday, and his incessant talking just became a part of the apartment.

It became a kind of routine; Peter would come in, hand Loki whatever ridiculous foods he had grabbed, and talk and Loki would listen, pretending he knew exactly what Peter was excited about.

 _"Mr. Stark never talks to me anymore, it's_ so annoying!  _I had to tag along to one of his boring meetings and I had an idea and I was like 'hey Mr. Stark, what do you think would happen if we modified the Accords' and he just pretended I didn't say anything! I don't know why! I mean..."_

_"Scott asked me to help out with some of his tech. It looks like Dr. Banner got me a reputation as, like, a mechanic or something. I went over to his house and he has this daughter named Cassie and she had a bunch of hero toys and I was like, 'looks like you don't have a Spider-Man figurine' and she was like 'who's Spider-Man' and I was absolutely..."_

_"So Mr. Thor and Steve literally walked up to me and asked to see my schoolwork because they were trying to settle an argument about what they were teaching in 'school these days' and Mr. Thor totally lost the bet because he thought they taught us how to speak Groot in our classes, like, what?"_

Some days Peter would walk in and have nothing to say. At first on those rare days, Loki let him do his studying or whatever. But sometimes Loki would have something interesting to talk about.

 _"Alright, you would not_ believe _what Janet said to me today--"_

 _"So this idiotic PTSA mom_ Susan,  _let me tell you about her,"_

_"Alright, sit the fuck down. That son of a bitch Mark came up to me and thought with his delusional ass that he could even try to compete with--"_

Loki didn't like the conversations in the slightest. This put a bright red target on his back. Peter's existence was just a huge sign tacked on his door that said LOKI LIVES HERE, AVENGERS COME FIND ME. It was dangerous. Any day, someone Peter knew would knock on his door and recognize him. And they would put him in some sort of isolated hell-prison like last time. And the Avengers would be there and they would--

 _I'll cut off contact next time,_ Loki would tell himself.

Every single time.

But when Peter walked in, eyes bright with excitement or frustration, Loki couldn't bring himself to do it. What with the mismatched foods, the rants, the  _laughing,_ Loki didn't really want to stop.

He had to stop.

* * *

[8:15 PM.]

Loki anxiously glanced at the clock. Peter was looking around in the fridge for something to eat.

There was an event at the library from 8:30 to 10:30 (some sort of book signing) and Loki had to be there, and he didn't have any spare money for a taxi. But... Peter didn't have anywhere to go tonight, seeing as May was on a shift till 9:15, Stark's driver was at a meeting, and his friend (Nathan? Nick? Ned? Yes, that was it, Ned) was on a vacation.

He _could_ let Peter stay over unsupervised. He didn't really have anything to hide, not here. Whatever his decision, he had to make it fast, because there was no one to cover his shift.

"Hey, Lukas? Could I have your phone number in case I need to call you?" Peter called from the kitchen.

"I have a contacts book in the kitchen, write it down there," Loki answered distractedly, finally coming to his decision. "I have to be at a book signing, you can stay here. Close the door when you leave."

[8:18 PM.]

Loki grabbed his phone, wallet, and house key, shoving them in his pockets and leaving hurriedly.

* * *

**{Peter Parker}**

Peter sighed, grinning.  _Of course Lukas would forget to be there on time._  

There was a notebook in the kitchen somewhere, according to the older man, so Peter entered the room, looking around, opening a few of the cupboards.

He spotted a little cabinet to the left of the fridge and opened it.  _There it is!_ Peter thought to himself, satisfied, as he spotted the journal.

Pausing for a moment with a frown, he looked closer at the notebook. It was  _old._ Not the kind of fake old they sell in bookstores to _seem_ vintage, but an authentic leather-bound old that was most likely made in the 1800s. It was preserved extremely well, though; aside from a few stains, it was perfect. Stuff like this probably belonged in, like, museums.

He opened the small notebook slowly, expecting to flip through it and see pages of people and their information, then stopped dead in his tracks at the first page.

 _Century Ten- Loki ~~Odinson~~  _ _Laufeyson_

***

_There's no way._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oooooo suspense!  
> Thanks so much for all the feedback! Comments are super cool and keep me motivated!


	3. In Which Peter Isn't Back

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now, time for the most recent episode of Author Has No Idea How To Pace A Story! 
> 
> The bold, italicized, underlined text does have a meaning!! It's not a mistake or the author interjecting her opinion in the chapter. With that said, enjoy!!

[10:52 PM.]

Loki walked into his apartment, locking the door behind him as he examined the room. Peter had obviously left by now, probably to his aunt May’s house. He said he had a test tomorrow and that he wasn't going on patrol or something like that. The sorcerer trudged into the kitchen, summoning a bowl with a flick of his wrist and putting some Greek yogurt in it.

He turned around, finding the drawer where the eating utensils were, when something caught his eye.

_The compartment where Loki put his events journal was open._

Not fully open, but there was a ever-so-small gap between the small drawer and the wall. Loki always made sure to keep it closed fully whenever he wrote anything down. Pulling it open, Loki put down the bowl and picked up the notebook and  _no my hands are not shaking they are not shaking--_

There was a crease on the inner side of each page. A new crease. Not ones that Loki left when he turned the pages, these were too recent, too fresh, and it spelled out _Loki is a fool_ in an unwritten script. They led until the most recent entry, which meant--

_No._

Whirling around, the sorcerer threw open the cabinet with the contacts journal in it, maybe with his magic, maybe with his hands, ripping the door off its hinges, but that didn't fucking matter at this point. There was no contact on the first page, he realized, flipping through the book roughly. Or the next page. Or on any of the pages. The book was empty and _it's laughing at you because only you could be such an utter, pathetic, worthless scum,_ he snarled at himself. Peter  _knew_  about Loki which meant he was going to tell the Avengers and they would come down to his house and take him and leave him in a prison and he would never see the sun again and  _calm down I need to calm down--_

 _Revealing your identity to a 16-year-old mortal. Everyone you know would be so proud of you,_ the sneering voice in his head mocked, and he winced. Weak.

The cabinet door was thrown haphazardly on the floor and he picked it up, fitting it in place with trembling hands. Closing his eyes, he willed the metal hinges to latch onto their counterparts as they had before. He let go of the door, watching it hang in place as it had before.

Picking up the bowl and getting a spoon, he sat down on the couch and ate, stone-faced, self-hating.

_I have royally fucked up._

 

Peter didn't come back the next day. Or the next.

* * *

Among many other things, there are two skills that Loki Odinson has never been able to master: he cannot teleport and he cannot understand people.

He remembers  ~~Frigga's~~ futile attempts to teach him how to transport himself instantly, but they never worked. No matter how hard he tried, no matter how much he strained his magic, he just could not move more than a few inches forward. At some point,  ~~Frigga~~ his mentor gave up.

Loki cannot teleport, which is why he had to trudge through the downtrodden alleys of Queens to find a rooftop where he could wait for a certain webslinging vigilante to swing past.

It turned out he didn't have to wait, because the person he was waiting for was already sitting there, munching on a churro, watching the city. Peter was wearing the old suit, not the Iron Spider one, and his mask was pulled up halfway so he could eat. With his hearing, there was no doubt that the boy knew Loki was there.

(Loki cannot understand other people, which is why he was baffled by Peter's decisive silence.)

From his understanding there were two reasons why anyone would keep Loki in their circle: because they needed him for some task or because they owed him a debt. But everyone seemed to have this obsession with  _friendship_. There was no such thing as doing something out of the 'goodness of their heart.'  ~~Odin~~ only kept him around as a bargaining chip and  ~~Thor~~ only kept him around to succeed with his plans for kingship. Everyone else was just like them. That was  _life._

 ~~~~Snapping back to the present, Loki walked over, sitting down a few feet to Peter's left. They sat like that for a few seconds.

"So." Peter looked uncomfortable. "You're the guy who attacked New York a while back."

 _Try to justify your actions,_ the rational part of Loki's mind advised.

"The one and only," Loki's treacherous voice answered. "Well, not only. I assume I'm not the only one to have attacked this city. A giant purple raisin with a chin the size of my skull comes to mind."

Peter flinched and the smile dropped off the sorcerer's face. Too close to home.  _Always insensitive, this is why_ ~~ _Thor_~~ _never liked you, this is why ~~Odin~~ always disapproved, you idiotic, useless fucking sociopath._

"Who did you tell?" Loki tried, changing the subject.  _You've revealed yourself to and frightened a Midgardian_ child, _congratulations! Your mother would be_ so _proud of you._

Peter's hollow voice took the sorcerer off guard. "I didn't tell anyone. I don't-- it's not my secret to tell, I guess."

Another four minutes passed. Neither of them knew what to say. Well, Loki was preparing to say something along the lines of  _now that we have this over with, can you please ~~keep talking to me~~ never acknowledge my existence ever again?_ but Peter had already started speaking.

"All that shit you went through. That must have been lonely."

Loki would have choked if he had been eating anything.

"You-- you--" he sputtered, silver tongue failing him for the first time in years-- "I murdered hundreds, maybe thousands of people and you tell me I'm  _lonely?_ I am most certainly  _not--_ "

"You're not lonely, but you tolerate my presence every time I come over," Peter argued. "Your coworkers treat you like shit but you never make comments about that when you talk to me. All you complain about is their lack of knowledge, never about how they won't leave you alone. You're--"

"Stop right there. If I was lonely, I would have gone back to another planet where I knew people, and--"  _change the topic change the topic change the topic right now--_  "by the way are you ever going to tell anyone about me?"

"I'm  _not!_  Is that really--" Peter broke off, frustrated. He stopped for a moment and then looked down. His voice was flat when he continued. "All you're worried about is me exposing you."

Peter sounded so miserable.  _Your fault your fault your fault--_

"No!" Loki covered up quickly. He put more force in his voice as he continued. "That's not my main concern--"  _[isn't it, though?]_ "--and I don't want you to think that." He was about to add some bullshit reasoning onto it, but Peter looked like he was about to say something, which Loki took as his social cue to wait.

Peter looked at the sorcerer dubiously for a moment and sighed, shaking his head. "Of all the people whose doorsteps I could have passed out on, I had to pass out on the homicidal unstable muderer's."

_That wasn't the reply I expected._

Unexpectedly, a grin spread over Loki's face _(fuck, I must look like a madman)_ at the phrase. This was so....  _cliché._ So overly dramatic. Not that he was one to criticize pettiness and being extra. ~~Thor~~ used to call him the drama queen back when he was a girl. "That's me, isn't it," the magician countered dryly. "I love that title. Loki of Asgard? I like Loki the Homicidal Unstable Murder _so_ much better. Really capitalizes on my humanity and inherent moral compass."

_['Your moral compass is a fucking roulette wheel, Loki,' is what Thor would say, but he isn't here right now.]_

"Lukas--"

"I hate that name," Loki said, flicking his wrist dismissively (an old habit from his mother that he still ~~didn't want to~~  couldn't get rid of). "Just call me Loki."

"Do you speak Spanish?" Peter asked.

Loki blinked several times, stunned, turning the question over in his head several times. Did he... did he hear that correctly? "I'm sorry,  _what."_

"I have a Spanish project due two days from now. I'm not too good with subject pronouns and verb tenses."

"I don't speak Spanish," the sorcerer said slowly, not fully grasping the question. Peter just... let go of the whole  _unstable killer who tried to take over the world_ fiasco? Just like that? No, that wasn't possible.

"Do you know any other languages?"

"I know Allspeak, English, and Ancient Norse."

Loki didn't understand people. Why someone would do something out of  _nothing_ except the kindness in their heart was absolutely a foreign notion to the sorcerer. But maybe, after meeting someone as naturally good as Peter... it wasn't as hard to believe.

* * *

**[2:33 PM.]**

A loud, sudden knock at the door made Loki jump. It was Saturday. Peter usually didn't arrive until 3:00, and the kid always knocked four times, not just once.  _Probably one of my weird neighbors. I'll ignore it._

Well, he didn't get to ignore it before a familiar second-rate, idiotic street magician teleported inside his apartment with a crisp _snap_. It took all of Loki's self-control not to strangle him right then and there. "You should answer the door when guests knock," Stephen Strange said, nonchalant.

Strange looked to be faring better than the last time Loki saw him five months ago. His arm was out of the cast and his face wasn't as gaunt. He was wearing his usual tunic (by the  _Norns,_ did he wear that everywhere?) but his Cloak's collar was pulled up suspiciously high. Unnaturally, ridiculously high, so much so that the tips of the rigid cloth were brushing Stephen's ears.  _He doesn't usually wear it like that. He's hiding something._

"Do you barge into everyone's apartments uninvited, or is it just me?" Loki asked coldly. "Because it's quite an asshole thing to do. Are Stark's mannerisms rubbing off on you?"

"Have you been talking to him?" Strange countered, immediately tensing.  _He's too tense. Worried about Stark._

Loki snorted. "Why does it matter to you?"

"Because if I wanted to, I could tell Tony you're down here, and you'd have at least four angry Avengers on your doorstep ready to put you back in prison."

The Asgardian flinched against his will _(weak)_. Strange turned around, examining the room, and that was when Loki saw.

Three small purplish marks on the left side of Stephen's neck, only visible in the dim light to someone with eyesight as keen as an Asgardian's. Against his will, a devilish grin split Loki's face.

"So," he began, voice silky smooth. It almost sounded like a child mocking another. "Does Stark keep you company at night?" Strange went rigid at that. "Do you share kisses and--"

"I didn't come here for conversation," came the (unnecessarily) loud interruption. "I came to find out what you're hiding from me."

"What I'm hiding!" Loki crooned dramatically, the marks forgotten. "Forgive me, but don't you need a warrant for that?"

"You could call the police. I'm sure they'd take well to a well-known murderer calling them."

"Look through whatever you want. I have nothing to hide."

[2:43 PM.]

 _Peter's going to be here soon,_ Loki realized.  _Strange can't see him here or else he'll go straight to Stark._

 _I have two options: get Strange out of here within seventeen minutes or go outside and get Peter away from here while simultaneously making sure that a_ fucking teleporter _can't find me. Option one it is._

"Why are you actually here?" Loki asked suddenly, making Strange startle. The Asgardian sorcerer drummed his fingers on the kitchen countertop impatiently. "I have a shift in twenty minutes at the library." (A lie, but it would have to do.)

Narrowing his eyes, Stephen took one last look around the living room. "Had to see what was going on."

"There's nothing going on." The Asgardian's voice lowered dangerously. "Unless you're hiding something important from me."

"It's nothing that affects you."

"I should be insulted that you think you can fool the literal God of Lies. So either get out this moment or tell me right now what you're hiding."

A moment of hesitation before Stephen opened a portal. Avengers' Compound was on the other side, from what Loki could see.

"Get into any trouble--" Strange began.

"--and you'll murder me, I know." Loki said. "Just get out."

He stepped through the portal and the gateway closed.

[2:49 PM.]

Safe.

_**(You magicians love to keep your secrets, don't you?)** _

* * *

_[Loki Odinson is falling.]_

_[It is dark.]_

_[It is dark and cold.]_

_[It is dark and cold and Loki Odinson cannot see.]_

_[Loki Odinson never screams in the night, not anymore.]_

_[He knows he isn't worth saving.]_

_[Loki Odinson realizes there is someone falling with him.]_

_[Loki Odinson sees it is Peter Parker.]_

_[And for the first time in hundreds of years, Loki Odinson screams.]_

_[He doesn't deserve to be saved. Peter Parker does.]_

_[And maybe, with his cursed voice, Loki Odinson can save Peter Parker.]_

_[It is dark and cold and Loki Odinson cannot see.]_

_[Loki Odinson never hits the ground.]_

_[Loki Odinson knows that no one will catch him when he falls.]_

_[But he hopes someone will catch Peter Parker.]_

_[Peter Parker is worth saving, unlike Loki Odinson.]_

_[But Loki Odinson will suffer in silence.]_

_[Like he deserves.]_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Maybe there's something else going on here...  
> Thanks for all the support on this work! It means a lot to me. 
> 
> My tumblr is bruce-ban-the-science-man.tumblr.com!  
> I’ll start posting my updates there!!


	4. In Which Another Problem Arises

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was really hard to write. 
> 
> And I really don't like it much? I've been having writer's block for a while, along with a bunch of other crap happening in my life.
> 
> Anyway, thanks to everyone reading! (I also changed my user from tiny-little-dragons to soybea_n, so there's that.

**[Peter Parker]**

Peter was terrified. Plain and simple. For no reason. No reason whatsoever. And on top of it, today was a sensory overload day. December was cold, too cold, and each gust of wind was like a dagger on his hypersensitive skin, and he couldn't focus on anything because he saw everything, and each voice echoed in his head for a moment too long and it was so loud--

He was in chemistry. Usually his favorite class, but not on one of these days. God, Peter could hear Ned's heartbeat, at normal speed, a stark contrast to his own that was hammering too fast, pounding in his ears. The teacher was saying something and  _fuck,_ someone dropped a pencil to his left and he could hear it bounce once before the loud rustle of the student reaching down to get it reached his ears.

He forced himself to stay still.

Mr.  _Fuck-What's-His-Name-I-Can't-Think_ wrote something on the board, a formula for something, and Peter scribbled it down along with everyone else and the scratching of pencils on paper was like  _nails on chalkboard--_

The teacher-- Mr. N? handed out a worksheet for homework, letting the students pass them around. The paper felt like spikes on Peter's fingertips, and the scratchy backpack fabric was even worse when he put the worksheet inside.

And then the bell rang.

The sound was like a hundred screams drilling holes into Peter's brain and he would have screamed along with it if that wouldn't cause his head to explode.  _Too much._

Ned nudged him  _(that feels like a fucking sledgehammer don't touch me please)_ and Peter stiffly followed him out of the room. The hallways were filled with students on their way to lunch and he could see everything and his brain was trying to process it all but the worst part was the hearing.

The rustle of cloth against skin. People talking to each other. Every voice was too loud. Everyone was talking. Lockers being slammed open and shut. Breathing. Heartbeats. Peter had been walking around like this for the entire day. 

A while ago, Mr. Stark helped him make glasses to block out his vision as well as two little devices for the overwhelming hearing, but Peter had left them at Loki's house the day before. Classic Parker luck.

And honestly? Peter wanted to invent a device to punch his past self in the damn face because that was the dumbest thing he'd done in five months. (Of course, the event before was singlehandedly trying to take on a gigantic mutated lizard-human, so this wasn't  _as bad.)_

"--something wrong?" Peter caught the end of Ned's sentence.  _Finally, something to focus on--_

"What'd you say?" he mumbled back.

"I said, is something wrong? You're really--" Ned made a flippant waving gesture with his arms (almost hitting a girl who was walking by) --"broody and silent."

"No, I'm fine, it's just-- one of those bad days," Peter replied hoarsely. So many people were talking. The ventilation system buzzed faintly overhead.

"Didn't you get those glasses from Tony for overload days--"

"Yeah, I did, but I left them at Lo-- at someone's house yesterday."

"You're talking really quietly," Ned pointed out, frowning. 

"I left them at someone's house," Peter repeated, hoping he was at a reasonable volume. He probably was, because Ned nodded. 

"Dude, that sucks. Maybe you can get sent home?"

"I wish. But the nurse saw right through me last time. I'm an awful liar."  _And I probably can't make it through the streets without passing out._

"What about the ear device things that cancel out noise? Don't tell me you left them at whoever's house too."

"All three things are in one little box. I left the everything there," Peter answered faintly. Ned shook his head sympathetically (disapprovingly? annoyedly?). Too loud.

They made it to the lunch tables amid the cacophony of voices and pounding headache that plagued Peter's brain. He was pretty sure he pulled out his lunchbag when someone new approached the table, glaring directly at the two boys.

_For fuck's sake, what did I do this time?_

He was a plain, unassuming kid: probably a senior, judging by his height, with messy medium-length black hair, tan skin, and ridiculously bright green eyes. Maybe not to everyone else (Peter seriously couldn't tell at this point) but the color was an eyesore to his enhanced senses, especially compared with the dull purples and grays of the walls. No backpack, casual  _I-just-woke-up_ outfit, slouched posture-- he would pass as a popular kid any day. Which was odd, because Peter and Ned had never seen him before.

"You left these at my house yesterday," the kid said (in a perfect Queens accent), holding out a plain brown-- was that  _Mr. Stark's box?_ The box with Peter's hearing suppressors?

 _That_  is _Mr. Stark's box what the fuck I don't even know this kid what does he mean by I left it at his house?_

_I was at Loki's yesterday. Maybe he sent someone he knew? But he doesn't talk to kids. And I'm pretty sure I didn't stop anywhere--_

"Are you going to take them or not?" A hint of impatience seeped into the person's voice. "You've been staring at my hand for thirty seconds."

"Y-yeah. Thanks." Peter managed, taking the box. _Thank you so much._

With a nod, whoever it was merged into the crowd and disappeared, leaving Peter with the devices. Ned was still looking after him. "Was that your new neighbor? You didn't tell me about him."

Practically throwing open the container, Peter could have wept with relief when he saw Mr. Stark's devices. Two little skin-colored circular objects to put in the space just next to his earlobe, and the glasses that made his vision bearable. Attached was a note that said  _I'm missing my shift because of you, and normally I'd be mad, but I'm working with Mark today, so I'll let it slide._

And then it clicked. 

_Oh my god. That was Loki. With his weird-ass illusion shapeshifting magic thing._

_He literally came down to my school. To get me my glasses. And he can imitate an American accent. What._  

"Who was that?" Ned repeated, staring after the trickster while Peter put the items on. "And what does that note mean?"

"His name's Lo--Lukas," Peter lied awkwardly. "I used to be in elementary school with him, before you moved to Queens. And yeah, he's my... neighbor."

"Huh. He looks intimidating. And the note?" Ned prodded.

"Oh. It's... an inside joke?"  _That sounds like such a lie, oh my god--_

"Mmkay."

As bad of a liar Peter was, Ned's pitiful lie detection skills made up for it.  _T_ _hank god._

* * *

Peter went straight to patrolling after school. He’d finished his homework in sixth period, after all. Nothing better to do.

Swinging through the city, Peter checked a few blocks for any imminent crime, then headed down to the square where Delmar’s was located, taking the longest route.

The alleys were surprisingly quiet. Even in the darkest, grimiest roads, not much was happening. People milling around, doing whatever they needed to do. He lingered around for a few minutes everywhere, making sure no one was dealing illegal drugs or doing something else that didn't involve shouting. The drug network in New York was ridiculously complicated, and the gangs that managed it were impenetrable.

Nothing. _Absolutely nothing?_

As he neared Delmar's, a feeling of wrongness began to settle in his stomach. He shook it off.  _These areas aren't that populated, so today's probably a good day. Something... something normal will happen in the square._

Landing on the roof parallel to the ATM machines, Peter waited for about five minutes. Scanning the faces for any suspicious activity from a rooftop, Peter sat down, swinging his legs back and forth.

Literally nothing, Peter realized as he watched the crowd. People milling around, minding their business. _Nothing wrong._

And that in itself was incorrect.

Queens was  _New York._ Crime rates were crazy around here. He always managed to snag at least two wrongdoers around here. But there was nothing bad happening.

And he knew it was good, but it felt wrong. Like the city was waiting.

Whatever it was,  _everyone who committed crime in this entire gigantic city_ knew about it, and that meant it was something big.  _I'm no criminal, but if that many disagreeable people were able to collaborate on something, it's definitely no good._

Soon the stillness got to him and he stood up. Shooting a web at the closest building, Peter flew through the streets, scanning more carefully than usual for any traces of criminal activity. People waved at him as he swooped over their heads.

The amount of kidnappings after the snap had decreased, and even now, a year and a half after, Peter could see why. Parents held their children more closely and people walked closer together, as if their friends might disappear the next moment. Everyone was ever-so-slightly more tense. Their eyes flickered from side to side faster. They tried to get to their homes more quickly. They were closer to their families.

_That's what happens when you know what it's like to lose each other, I guess._

Snapping back to the present, Peter paused, looking closer at what might have been a mugging in process. Nope. It was just two teenagers shoving at each other for fun.

In 23 minutes, he swept through the entire goddamn city. Nothing.

_I'll... go to back Delmar's then, see if I can snag a bite to eat?_

Tracing his path back to the square, Peter perched up on the same rooftop as before while he counted his change. 

_I have $4.59 and if the sandwich is four dollars and maybe Mr. Delmar will give me a discount on a soda, so I'd end up spending--_

Which, of course, was when his spidey sense decided to go batshit crazy, and the pitiful amount of cash he was holding dropped into the crowded sidewalk (someone yelled at him annoyedly) and Peter scanned the crowd frantically for whatever was making him want to vault off the roof and start shrieking for everyone to run.

And then he saw.

A familiar face in the bustle of the crowd, a sorcerer. A sorcerer dressed in street clothes, but the fact that he was six foot two made him stand out. A sorcerer who looked pissed.

Dr. Strange. No Cloak, glaring like he was about to shoot laser beams out of his eyes.

Stephen never visited Queens. Which meant something was really, really wrong.

And that was when Peter noticed the other magician, the only other one he knew.

Loki was here, too.

And Strange was approaching him fast, making a beeline through the horde of people.

_Oh, fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck that definitely isn't good--_

But... Loki, despite being able to sense magic, didn't turn around. He was... speaking to someone, it seemed, and whoever it was had him enraptured in conversation. One sided conversation, because the Asgardian wasn't talking. Actually, he wasn't moving at all. Still as a statue. The person talking to him was dressed in an all-black outfit, hood pulled up, with deathly pale, paper-white skin.  _Is that one of Than--_

Before he knew it, Peter had jumped into the mob, quickly finding his way to Dr. Strange. People didn't turn their heads when the bright red-and-blue vigilante sprinted through the masses. (Honestly, it was a regular sight here nowadays.) It took him nineteen seconds to locate the man.

"Mr. Strange!" he called, nearing the Sorcerer Supreme.

Strange turned around, and his face was still tense. "I'm a doctor," he corrected, forcing a smile.

"Right, right, you have a Ph.D in poking brains with sharp things, right?" Peter quipped nervously, pretending he wasn't wearing his mask and desperately hoping his voice wasn't shaky.

"Remind me never to let you go to medical school."

"Aw, come on, man. Anyway, why're you in Queens?"

And, before Strange could answer, someone started screaming, and there was a car suddenly flying over their heads, and all hell broke loose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are my writing fuel! It would be super great of you to leave one. Thanks for reading!


	5. In Which Loki Can't Get A Goddamn Break

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. It's been three months.
> 
> I am actually so sorry for all the time it took to get this update. Writer's block, school, stress, and extracurriculars basically teamed up to form the ultimate distraction. And I left on a cliffhanger, too.

_[ALERT: A CHILD OF THANOS ATTACK IS OCCURRING IN QUEENS, NEW YORK. ANYONE WITHIN 5 MILES OF THE AREA SHOULD EVACUATE IMMEDIATELY. HEROES DEPLOYED: IRON MAN, THOR, AND STEPHEN STRANGE.]_

 

 _\--_  

 

**[14 minutes earlier.]**

Loki was on his break from work. He was tired, and honestly, a little nauseous. He'd run out of normal foods this morning after skipping dinner the night before, so he'd settled for a disgusting mixture of Peter's random grocery foods. He now knew that plain cheerios in pomegranate juice with walnuts was incredibly disgusting. The trickster god had been faced with worse, though. One time, ~~Thor~~  a friend decided to put sour grapes and rabbit skin in his lunch. It most definitely was  _not_ fair, because all Loki had done to deserve it was stab his brother. And the stab healed! No harm done.

Grabbing his house key and wallet, Loki strolled out the door, heading for Delmar's. It was about a twenty-five minute walk.

He felt... at home in New York's busy streets. Of course, a god of chaos _would_ feel more comfortable surrounded by hundreds of busy people bustling about, shouting, laughing, speaking. Bright lights and flashy signs to keep their attention away. He could walk around, unnoticed, alone in a crowd.

And the city at night was even better. There were no stars in the sky, usually just a lazy fog that settled over everyone's heads, but the streets still retained the air of risk and thrill, and the night was when there were less flashy vigilantes swinging around to police the drug deals and illegal business. Loki kind of liked being a commoner, just another stranger in the masses, another face that people didn't stop to look at.

An old song from the radio floated into his head and he almost hummed to it as the lyrics played softly in the back of his head.

Today was a little strange, a little too quiet. The air always hung heavily over the city, pollution weighing down on the smog, but right now, the atmosphere felt electrified, staticky. Like a held breath. Kind of like how it felt when Thor was having a bad day as a kid and touching him gave off a little shock.

Loki walked faster, nearing the square where Delmar's was.

He was halfway across the damn street. The shop he wanted to go to was only some fifty feet away.

But, of course, because the universe just never could let Loki have a break, someone's icy-cold hand snaked out of their pocket and grabbed his wrist before he could take another step. The trickster froze, not turning around, staring down at the limb grasping tightly at his arm.

 _Don't turn around until you can convey to the enemy that you are not scared,_ Frigga's voice echoed in his head. He dared to let his eyes flicker down.

The hand was cold, unnaturally cold, and bony. White as a sheet, but the tips stained purple. Were those  _scales?_ Loki... had seen this hand before, but he didn't remember  _where._ Which was bad, because he had an eidetic memory.

"Do you remember me?" the voice behind the hand croaked, and Loki turned his head, finally, to face the speaker, and there was no way his heart could have plummeted into his stomach faster. Mousy grayish-blue hair with purple markings on its face, black-rimmed eyes that were bloodshot. That wasn't possible, it  _couldn't be._ _ **[As if denying it is going to make it go away.]**_

This was a Child of Thanos.

Grabbing his arm.

Well, if there was one thing he'd picked up from Peter, it was that sardonic humor could get you out of more situations than seriousness did.

"If you're going to kill me, I'd rather do it somewhere you could get out without a murder charge."  _(Keep your tone as flat as possible. Bored.)_

It blinked a few times, obviously confused. "So you do remember me," it rasped, tone a little bit unsure.

"Maybe with a good therapist, I won't in a few years."  _Why is this easier than confronting it head-on?_

"Are you trying to humor me?"

"D'you want to continue this after I grab lunch?" Loki sighed, prying the creature's hands off his own. He knew his heart was racing. It knew his heart was racing. He knew that it knew his heart was racing.

"Sharp-witted as ever," the envoy commented dryly with a terrifying attempt at a smile. It was more like a baring of teeth, wide and menacing. With a sharp motion, it twisted his wrist, and suddenly he wasn't  _here_ anymore. The city melted away, like ink in water. All that was left was black.

* * *

_There were no stars in a void. {This was a void, wasn't it?}_

_He was falling, again. Always falling. The faint ending of a_ 'No, Loki'  _echoed in his head again. (How many years ago was that?)_

_Suspended in midair, or maybe the trickster's body had gotten so used to the sensation of falling that it felt like he wasn't moving. [He didn't scream.]_

**"I'll shatter your mind into pieces, and rearrange the pieces into a mosaic of my pleasing."**

_The Mad Titan's voice boomed in his mind one more time. He was definitely falling, now. <Would he ever hit the ground?>_

_Loki Odinson couldn't think. There wasn't anything here but a churning feeling in his stomach and a dull, throbbing pain in his forehead. |It was too empty in here.|_

* * *

And with another sick, lurching sesnation, he was thrown back into reality. And then everything hit him at once while his vision refocused and his hearing started to function normally and he figured out where he was.

He couldn't see. Everything was blurred together, and every sound was garbled and muffled, like he was underwater. He felt like he was spinning.

Panic. It crawled up his lungs and muffled his thoughts, his nerves were on fire and he couldn't-- think, what the  _fuck--_

And the blobs of color he'd been staring at finally sharpened into shapes that he could see and figure out, and half a second later, the hearing resurfaced. He was on the ground, supported by his elbows.

A list formed in his head, a habit too old to be silenced by the overwhelming terror that was currently swimming in his head.

1\. Screaming. Everyone was screaming.

2\. Running. Everything was moving away.

3\. There were objects flying. Everywhere.

Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale exhale inhale exhale inhale exhale inh--

Loki choked on his own breath. He was choking and he couldn't stop it. There was something in his lungs, squeezing them tight, and there was something in his head, blocking his brain. A half-assed illusion crawled across his features: his version of a flight response when he couldn't move.

His vision was swimming again. Everything that had been in (mediocre) focus a few seconds ago turned back into undefined blobs. A bright red figure swooped by in the edge of his vision.

The boom of thunder was what snapped it. The sound he'd heard so many times. The sound that signaled only one person. With a feeling like glass cracking, he could think again, and he blinked again and again, the tears clearing from his vision.  _Make a new list for the new information._

1\. Everyone was screaming. Everyone was running.  _Why are they running?_

2\. A figure was standing about 15 feet away from him, a Child of Thanos. It had pulses of unstable magic emanating off of it. 

3\. There were buildings being torn apart before his eyes. Bricks and iron rods tore themselves away from the infrastructures of what now was rubble, flinging themselves at civillians who were running. The envoy watched it all with beady eyes. There were only two figures within a 50-feet radius of it, one of which was Stephen Strange, with two glowing magic gauntlets around his wrists. 

The other was Spider-Man.  _Peter._

No. Why was Peter here? He could  _not be here._ A fucking child, was what he was. A child who was about to fight a monster. The two heroes were dodging rubble and debris being flung at them. Peter was grounded because there were no buildings around him to swing off of, and--  _fuck,_ he had to get out of here. Why the fuck wasn't Strange doing something about it with his portals?

Another roar of thunder made Loki's hair stand on end. There was a problem with that.

The sky was clear.

Thor was on his way. The screaming had grown quieter; there were less people around; all the civilians had evacuated. Which meant he was the only innocent here. He'd stick out, and then he'd be seen and whoever accompanied Thor here would see him, and he'd go to whatever darkest prison they could make--

Startling, Loki realized he was wearing a half-assed illusion disguise. He took a few seconds to let it fully form, turning his hair a light brown and shifting the hue of his skin.

_Move. Now._

His legs felt like they were made of lead.  _(That was number 82 on the periodic table, with the symbol Pb-- fuck, this isn't the time for one of Peter's chemistry lessons--)_

And then two people fell out of the sky.

Loki would later realize that it was one of Strange's portals that had caused two people to teleport in from some other location, but he could recognize them.

One of them was decked in a shiny metal red-and-gold suit. Iron Man. Immediately shooting something out of his palm blasters, hovering to the side of all the action, long-range. He barked an order at Peter, who immediately used his webs to grab any spare bricks and rubble he could reach.

The other person was Thor, as expected. Loki would recognize him any day. He had Stormbreaker gripped in his left hand, and it had been hurled at the creature while said god made a beeline for the only "civillian" on the scene.

He was heading straight for his own brother. Loki closed his eyes, getting ready for the recognition and the angry words that would be thrown his way, the  _Why didn't you tell me you were alive,_ the  _How could you hide from me--_

When Loki opened his eyes, Thor was standing in front of him and grabbing his shoulders. "Are you alright?" the god shouted.

There was no flash of  _I know you_ in his face.

Loki couldn't answer before a circle of orange sparks opened beneath his legs and he fell into-- he was in his apartment. He'd fallen on his bed.

With a few rasping breaths, Loki got up, pacing around the room. His hands dug into his close-cropped brown hair. Wait. He was wearing an illusion. Unimportant.

_Peter._

 

* * *

 

**[One week later.]**

Four tentative knocks on the door made Loki jump out of his seat on the couch. He'd been reading a book or something. Whatever it was, it probably wasn't important now. He flung open the door with his mind before he reached it with his feet, and he didn't even think that it might not be Peter that was standing there, but it didn't matter because it was. Peter, standing there, alive, without so much as a scratch.

Peter hardly managed a "Loki--" before he was crushed in a hug. Loki wasn't even thinking at this point.

With a little muffled "mmp--" sound, Peter paused, arms hovering at his sides. It took him a couple seconds to let his arms wrap around Loki's back. And then he was shaking, crying right there.

They just stayed there like that for a while.

"You-- you aren't allowed to do that ever again," Loki managed when he pulled away. Fuck, when did _he_ start crying?

"Yeah, I won't. I'm okay now, though, right?" The boy managed a smile.

With a ragged sigh, Loki finally remembered what he'd been rehearsing the whole week.  _Fuck,_ if he'd remembered to say it from the start, this whole thing would be so much easier.

"You had better be fine. I'd kick your ass if you weren't." Loki made his voice as cold as he could manage. 

_"_ _Now get out."_

"I-- what?" The watery smile had dropped off Peter's face and he had taken a step back.

"Get out of my fucking house. You heard me."

Peter winced when Loki took another threatening stride forward. "Why? I-- thought we were friends--" He took one more half-step backwards, which was enough.

Loki forced him out and slammed the door in his face.

_People you care about are a weakness._

 

* * *

 

 

**[Four days later.]**

Loki opened the door, about to go to work, and almost tripped on a solid package on the floor. It was a grocery bag.

Peering inside, the god found two bottles of blue Gatorade, a loaf of banana bread, a box of strawberries, and a can of Pringles. A note attached to it this time, handwritten on a piece of notebook paper in a familiar neat scrawl.

_Hey Loki,_

_I know you told me not to come back here, so I didn't. I just really hope you're okay. You seem kinda like Mr. Stark when it comes to taking care of yourself, and he never takes care of himself, so I figured you needed food since, you know, any stores that aren't demolished are at least six miles from here._

_So you aren't answering any of my calls or any of my texts or emails, and I even tried getting you on that Tumblr page you abandoned in, like, 2013 but I haven't been able to get you. I tried looking for you too, but I guess you're using some of that illusion shapeshifty magic thing in public, since I can't find you anywhere. I just wanted to say I'm sorry. I didn't mean to push you away. I hope we might still be friends sometime?_

_I don't have any idea of what else to write. But I could tell you about what happened after the attack._

_So, Dr. Strange teleported you out. I don't think Thor recognized you since you had some disguise up, but Mr. Stark and Strange took out that Child of Thanos pretty fast. It's dead now. So hooray I guess._

_School's been out for the past week, but we're starting soon. The square was totally wrecked, but they're trying to rebuild it. All the Avengers and I got back to the Compound after and Mr. Stark lectured me for, like, 49859864985684 years. It was pretty long. Thor was having, like, an existential crisis because the citizen he saw looked so familiar. So it looks like you scarred him or something, since he hasn't been sleeping._

_Dr. Banner's helping him._

_That crazy lizard monster guy's been causing trouble around the city, and he's too small-league for the Avengers to take. It's up to me to take him out, then. I still haven't seen him in person since that time I got knocked out and landed on your doorstep._

_See you around, I guess._

_\--Peter_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!! It would be great of you to leave a comment if you enjoyed or if you found any mistakes.
> 
> (A lizard monster? What could this mean? owo)


	6. In Which Peter Won't Leave His Friend Alone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's been a while since my last update. I promise I haven't abandoned this fic, and I won't until I finish it.
> 
> Enjoy the chapter!

The notes and groceries kept coming. Every three days, a bag of random groceries with a note attached to them 'mysteriously' appeared on Loki's doorstep.

* * *

 

_Hey Loki!_

_So, I know you aren't going to reply to these, but I'm going to keep leaving them here because I never know when to give up! :D_

_I haven't got much to talk about, but I'll try. We had a Chemistry test yesterday. I aced it. It was pretty easy, though. Remember that time I forced you to listen to my detailed explanation/rant of every element on the periodic table?? I'm pretty sure you stopped listening after I got to number 82 (that's Lead, symbol Pb) cos you started looking like I was sprouting nonsense. I mean, I couldn't blame you. I did the exact same thing when you tried to explain a few specifics of magic and stuff. For the record, I think Dr. Strange's mystic arts thing is a lot easier than your Seidr crap. Not that your magic is crap. It's just really complicated. ~~and crap~~_

_Anyway, enough about science vs. magic (even though science would totally win just saying). I'm using these letters to practice some of those ridiculously obscure language, spelling, and grammar rules, which is why these actually are written properly. Do you even know what an antecedent or an entendre is??? Well, that's the kind of shit I have to study right now. I could point out every single one I've written so far._

_My language arts teacher sucks._

_See you soon, hopefully_

_-Peter_

 

* * *

 

_Hey Loki_

_I hope you noticed I said 'these' in my last letter, cause I fully intend to leave these here until you start talking to me again. Don't worry about the grocery money, I'm getting it from Mr. Stark and he thinks I'm using it for, like, school supplies or something._

_Anyway, the Asgardian Situation™ has been resolved. They're going to be staying in Norway. Makes sense, seeing as you gods are Norse Myths and all. I'm pretty curious how the Norse actually figured out about your people. That whole fiasco was within your ridiculously huge lifespan, right? You've gotta know something about that. I'll ask Thor about it sometime._

_Speaking of which, Ned and I have been teaching him modern slang. He has absorbed exactly none of it. All we've gotten him to do is scream "YEET" every time he throws his axe. I mean, it's pretty funny. The video's everywhere. I've been seeing you reblog stuff on your Tumblr, so you have to have seen it by now._

_He isn't doing so well otherwise, though. He has these dark circles under his eyes all the time, and he never smiles anymore. He talks a lot less. Not even Bruce gets him to open up anymore. There's this lady, her name's Brunnhilde (but she's fine with us calling her Valkyrie since it sounds cool) and she's trying to take some weight off his shoulders. She's taken over as, like, the 'leader' or whatever of the remaining Asgardians. There's only some 5,000 left._

_Val didn't believe you were dead. She and Thor are probably gonna set up a club. With your track record of faking death, it seems pretty believable. Also the fact that you literally aren't dead._

_Damn, this letter's depressing._

_-Peter_

 

* * *

 

 _I know I'm delivering this a day early but I realized there wasn't enough stuff in that last bag to last you three days._ ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

_I got an 85 on my language arts test yesterday. I studied and everything. Damn._

_There's not much going on in_ my  _life, but the Lizard, as the endlessly creative media is calling him, is resurfacing. From the blurry camera footage, it looks like he's been abducting people. The media's actively been calling on Spider-Man to help fight him off, but Mr. Stark says I shouldn't._

_I won't... yet. I'll go out later at night, maybe search for him._

_I hope I can stop him_

_-Peter_

 

* * *

 

_I found him._

_He was lurking in an alleyway a few miles away from your house. I didn't see where he came from, but he was just walking down there like he wasn't some sort of monster. I got a couple photos, but they're pretty blurry._

_The Lizard is literally just a lizard person. Not really bright green, but the entire upper half of his body looks like a lizard-dinosaur monster thing that crawled out of hell. I keep on thinking about the people he's been taking. I've been doing my research. Mr. Stark doesn't know._

_I hope you're doing well._

There's no signature.

 

* * *

 

The entries in Loki's journal got shorter and shorter, every three days' entry getting replaced with a neatly folded letter tucked into the pages. The days were dulling out anyway. Nothing  _happened._ And if anything did, well, not like Loki noticed or anything.

His illusions were more in use now. It was his form of concealer to hide the bags under his eyes and grayish tone of his skin. He changed his appearance every time he went out. He wasn't  _hiding--_

He was hiding. 

 

* * *

 

_Mr. Stark found that I've been looking into the Lizard. He doesn't want me to, obviously. I guess watching the person you view as a son crumble into dust in your arms does that._

_Spider-Man has been getting a lot of criticism from the city for being absent. I want to help fight him off so badly, but Mr. Stark will know the second I go anywhere near that alley. I think he's put some sort of new tech in the suit. Every time I get within 30 feet of that place, Karen tells me to turn around._

_I'll figure something out._

_Hope you're okay._

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I'm sorry for the short update, but the next one will be much longer.
> 
> It would be super nice of you to leave a comment!


	7. In Which A Fight Is Had

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahaha,,, it's been a while, huh?

_Hey Loki,_

_I found him. I know where he is, how he operates. He abducted two kids yesterday. I can't let this happen anymore._

_I asked Ned to fuck with the suit a little bit, make it so Mr. Stark doesn't know what I'm doing._

_I'm doing it tonight. 1AM._

* * *

There was no signature, but there was an address attached. Loki read it, and checked the time. He'd gotten back from the library late, and stayed up reading until 9:00, so Peter must have dropped this off after then. One A.M. That's the time he's actually going to do it.

12:04.

_I won't go. This doesn't matter. Peter's just saying this to get me out of the house._

(But Peter wouldn't lie like that, would he? He wasn't a liar.)

12:05.

He won't go.

12:14.

Loki will not go.

12:27.

He won't.

12:39.

He _won't._

12:48.

Loki Odinson will not go after a boy determined to be his own demise.

12:57.

He won't.

12:59, and he was running. 1:00 had him sprinting as fast as he can to the address he wished he didn't turn over in his head a hundred times after reading it until it was memorized; to one of the darkest alleyways in the city. 1:12 when he arrived. Was  _this_ the Lizard's hideout?

It wasn't too far from where his house was; and the most eerie part was that there was hardly anyone along the way. The fading streetlights flickered, a warning in code. A code that Loki might be able to figure out if he spent more time on it, but he didn't have that time, and he didn't care. He was running. Just running.

It was 1:12 when he saw what he was looking for.

Peter Parker was _there_ , a blur of motion in a bright red suit. He was swinging from the surrounding buildings, around--

Around a fucking monster on the ground.

It was something out of a movie, several feet taller than Loki, (so perhaps eight or nine feet tall) with muted greeny-brown scales covering it from head to toe. The head was a lizard, or maybe a dragon if the eyes were anything to go by. It was a beast Thor would have enjoyed killing when they were children. Its claws were razor-sharp, and it looked like it would be roaring if any sound escaped.

But it was silent.

Its mouth was open in a silent scream, but there was no trace of a sound; the eerie silence was only broken by its periodical footsteps and Peter's harsh breath and his swinging.

The creature was... bipedal. So half-human, at least. Its head was snapping at Peter whenever he swung remotely closeby.

The boy stayed a safe distance above the animal, and after about three minutes of swinging precariously, three minutes of keeping his feet off the ground and off the buildings (could this thing climb walls?), his web snagged on a loose pipe.

The pipe snapped.

Loki heard Peter scream "FUCK!" which, you know, was probably something he'd tease the boy for if this was some normal situation, seeing as he never cursed much, but it wasn't a normal situation-- for the moment, Loki stayed where he was, waiting for something to happen. He should have run in, he should have used his magic, he should have done something, anything, but he didn't.

He took nothing over something.

Peter shot another web on a pipe before the Lizard could grab at him again.

Thank the gods--

"You're--" he huffed-- "really annoying, know that?"

The Lizard snapped its jaw in response.

Now Peter took an offensive approach; he jumped for the wall and used his fingertips to stick onto it for a moment before shooting a few rapid-fire webs at the monster, then swung into action again for another wall. He tried this a few times, but it didn't  _work._

Because the Lizard's claws-- were they even claws? The  _talons--_ whatever they were-- just clawed the webs off. And Loki could see the red welts appear in its skin from the force of the scratch, but it either didn't notice or didn't care, because it kept on fighting. Still, Peter kept at it-- why? Why was he--

Oh.

With every web it clawed off, pieces of the web snagged on the nail, which would probably reduce the sharpness of it.

Smart kid.

But he'd be running out of webs soon.

And he wasn't staying on the walls for long, meaning that thing could actually climb.

Before Loki can continue that thought, it  _spoke._

**"You do know that lizards eat spiders, don't you?"**

Peter hesitates for a moment. This isn't a hesitation from before-- no, it's a hesitation from the snap of two fingers that reduced half the world to dust, it's a hesitation he gained from watching himself disintegrate, it's a hesitation from--

* * *

**[Two hours after the snap.]**

Loki kicked uselessly at the ground in frustration. This wasn't  _working._ None of it was working. He'd died, and for real this time.

He still felt the phantom of ghost fingers around his neck, the choked whisper of  _"you will never be a god,"_ of  _"You really are the worst brother."_ He pushed it to the back of his mind. Now wasn't the time.

He summoned some of his magic again and poked at the space around him. This... was some form of Valhalla, he knew that for sure. He wasn't in Helheim. But the last thing he'd expected was Valhalla, and the less surprising fact is that he was alone. There was no one here, just the statues, the structures, the buildings. It was like a mini Asgard in itself; an abandoned kingdom. He'd never minded the quiet, though, really.

But maybe the universe had thought _this_ would be his personal hell.

Perhaps the silence would get to him sometime, drive him insane. But that had already happened.

He'd prided himself on having a resilient mind, until it happened.

A no from the man he'd looked up to the most, the letting go of a hand and falling, falling, falling, into an abyss, to the forgotten world of an insane tyrant, mad with ideas of halving the world.

But that wasn't important now.

Loki Laufeyson was dead.

He'd done this "death" thing many times before, but this was the first time it was real. But if there was one thing he'd learned from his travels through the worlds, there was always an exit. Always a back door, a spare key, some way to escape.

And if his way of escaping now was burning this deserted city to the damn ground, then so be it; he would.

From his magic, he'd sensed that the place he was standing was the best spot in terms of where the barrier between this world and the next was weakest. And all he had to do was worm his way through the smallest tear in the magic he could make.

He aims his magic again; _Seidr_ was an ancient art, but one he'd mastered through ages-- there was no way he could lose control of it now. He tried again, narrowing his eyes, trying to visualize the barrier, and he forced his magic at it.

A moment went by, and nothing happened. But then, a sliver of light peeked through a tiny, tiny gap of nothingness.

It had broken.

Loki narrowed his eyes at the light coming through the tear in space, and he stuck an experimental hand through it. It worked; he tore a little more of an opening, then a little more, until a person could fit through, and stepped into the other side.

There was always an exit, a back door, a spare key, some way to escape.

And he'd escaped.

So it was time to, as Thor would have said, kick some ass.

* * *

**"You do know that lizards eat spiders, don't you?"**

"Yeah, but that's kind of a cliche line, don't you think?" Peter snarks back mid-flight. The Lizard snaps its teeth again, before charging for a wall and digging its talons it, starting to climb. Peter stops swinging, moving to perch on a building while he tries catching his breath for a short moment.

"What did you do to them?"

The Lizard doesn't answer.

"There were children, you know. Children that you kidnapped and abducted and--"

FUCK-- the creature leaps at him, and Peter barely manages to dodge in time. It's somewhat clumsy, though-- Peter's disoriented and tired and probably stressed as hell, and this after the snap in addition to all the extra crime of the city must be weighing on his back.

It jumps again, and Peter's even slower to dodge.

Peter sends out a web, and he swings a little bit farther off- the string is thin, though-- he must be running out of web fluid-- but all the Lizard does is lunge forward and reach out and snap the web between its still-sharp talons.

Spider-Man falls, and Loki hears a sickening crack.

_NO._

The Lizard descends, and the trickster hears the crunch of old newspapers beneath its feet as it approaches him and he doesn't need to see it to hear the drawing back of its fist, but Loki's moving already; he's running, running, running--

**"At least you tried."**

Loki sees red.

His magic explodes.

- 

- 

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

...

Peter was lying on the ground, eyes shut, breathing shallowly.

Loki knelt next to him, trying to see through the angry haze behind his eyes. He ripped off the mask first, trying to find a switch inside it, but there was nothing, it was all some type of cloth-- what was the robot's name? Karen?

"Karen, I need you to call Anthony Stark right the  _fuck now."_

No answer.

"You shitty robot, answer me.  _Call Anthony Stark--"_

A small burst of static came from the other end, and a voice into the mic.  _"Yeah, kid?"  
_

It was Stark.

"Peter's hurt," Loki answered harshly. He repeated the location where they were at quickly twice. "Pick him up  _now._ And when I say now, I mean  _NOW."_

Stark hangs up.

 

Just a few minutes later, a man in a suit of iron shows up, and Loki's holding Peter in his arms.

"It's been quite a while, hasn't it?"

 


End file.
